


Venus on the Half Shell

by Dawnwind



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky finds an abandoned baby and Hutch has the flu. This was my submission for the 'Make Hutch Sneeze' contest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Venus on the Half Shell

Starsky squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself against the dashboard for the anticipated explosion. It hit with expected results, nearly microscopic, aerosolized contagious shrapnel raining down on everything in the vicinity of the car's interior.

"Hutch."

"Starsky," Hutch said, holding up a warning finger, and sneezed again.

"You're getting worse," Starsky insisted, his own chest and head aching in empathy. He already had to deal with residual pain from the scarring on his chest, having left over respiratory symptoms on top of that was making him grouchy, and Hutch's attitude wasn't helping.

"I am not." Hutch wiped his nose with the last of the tissues and snuffled. "This is just my usual seasonal allergies."

"You have what I had last week, and what Evers has, and Collins. Face it, Hutch, you got the Swine Flu."

"Starsky, the Swine flu was the virus in 1976, this is an allergy."

"Why did I have the flu, but you have an allergy?"

"Starsky, you succumb more easily," Hutch said stubbornly, scrunching up his nose just before another blast rattled the windows. "Your lungs were scarred when you were shot, you get everything."

Starsky narrowed his eyes, hurt that Hutch would bring that up against him. Sure, it was true, but it was specious logic in this argument. The latest flu had run rampant through the detective squad, Hutch was just the last to get it. "We're out of Kleenex, if you're going to keep sneezing all over the place, at least pull over at the gas station and buy another box. And then, I'll drive from now on."

"Why?" Hutch resorted to wiping his nose on the cuff of his shirt.

"Because it's impossible to sneeze with your eyes open, did you know that?" Starsky shot back. "And since you've sneezed seven times in the last five minutes, you've had your eyes closed for like...two and a half minutes!"

"That's ridiculous."

"Try." Starsky crossed his arms, daring his partner. "Try sneezing just once with your eyes open."

"I see a Shell Station up ahead," Hutch said instead, and spun the steering wheel in a hard right into the side street. He sneezed an eighth time just as they were pulling onto the asphalt apron in front of the mini-mart.

"See," Starsky said triumphantly. "I watched you, your eyes were closed the whole time. You can't see where you're going."

"I got us here, didn't I?" Hutch climbed out of the car, coughing when he stood. He rubbed his forehead sourly, grimacing.

"Got a headache, sore arms, and you feel kind of spacey, right?" Starsky asked. The first two days of his illness had been the worst. He'd barely been able to get up off his bed. With the rest of the department sick, too, Hutch had had to go into work, leaving Starsky to fend for himself. He hadn't really minded since the last thing on his mind when he could barely breathe was having his lover around. But, in a way, it had been a good thing, sort of. Starsky didn't like leaving Hutch on his own, and had willed himself better, he was positive of that. He still had a lingering pain in his lungs, and a cough that swelled at or 10 at night, but nothing like when he was really sick. He was plain tired lately, too. Tired of being the one who got sick all the time, and tired of Hutch proclaiming himself immune from virus, when he was clearly ailing this week. The early retirement on medical grounds the top brass had tried to foist off on him two years ago was looking better all the time.

"I'll get some allergy medicine, too," Hutch conceded. "Where are you going?"

"What do you think?" Starsky pointed around back. A pattern of red shells marched across the middle of the white enamel building with a small sign saying restrooms.

"I think you need a key." Hutch sneezed violently enough to startle a teenage girl pumping her own gas. She watched him warily, abruptly replacing the gas hose and jumping into her car as if afraid of catching his cooties. A blue Volkswagen honked in protest when she swerved in front of it and bumped out onto the street.

Starsky laughed, but Hutch probably hadn't even noticed the girl's scrutiny. He had already gone into the shop and was perusing the tiny pharmaceutical aisle. Starsky could see his partner's blond head bent over some display when he sauntered around the gas station.

This was the sort that had a carwash behind, but the carwash had seen better days. A crumpled sign taped crudely to the side of the long barn-like structure proclaimed it "Out of Order Until Further Notice". Since the station was only two blocks from Metro, Starsky filled up his car here frequently. He'd never once seen the carwash open for business.

The door to the men's room was shut, the lock engaged with a small white slide marked occupied. Starsky grunted his dissatisfaction at this, walking in a small circle to keep his mind off his bladder. He could hear the sound of shuffling feet and paper being torn coming from inside the one person stall, but no flush. Maybe he could use the Ladies? No such luck. A five year old girl bounded up, flashed Starsky a gap toothed smile and held the door open for her mom. They too snicked the lock, the indicator popping up with occupied. Now Starsky could hear snatches of the little girl talking in a cute, high-pitched child's voice, and a tiny wail of discontent.

Wait a minute.

He turned, focusing his hearing on the carwash behind. That cry hadn't come from inside the bathroom, it was from the other direction. Straining to hear more, Starsky completely forgot that Hutch might be waiting for him.

He heard the honk of a horn, a car engine, and more patter from the five year old inside the john. Then, there it was again, a tiny cry, like a very small infant.

"Starsky!" Hutch called, sounding annoyed. "Are you ready to go?"

"Hutch, c'mere!" Starsky started across the tarmac, stepping over weeds growing up through the cracked surface. It was pretty obvious that no one planned on reopening the carwash in the near future. The place was being reclaimed by mother nature, ivy growing up through the opening of the old cashier window.

"Starsky, we need to get back before Dobey puts us both on traffic duty," Hutch complained, coming around from the gas pump area. "We're supposed to be following up on those break-ins..."

"Sssh." Starsky inched closer to the carwash, feeling as if his ears were miniature satellite dishes, capable of capturing the faintest noise. He held up a silencing hand to his partner, now hearing tiny shuffling noises, and a soft exhale. All his instincts told him that there was a baby, or a very young child, in the murky interior of the carwash, but that didn't preclude that there might possibly be a parent with the baby. Tucking his left hand under his leather jacket, up close to his holstered pistol, Starsky peered around the edge of the dilapidated cement wall.

Huge banks of brushes for scrubbing the sides of a car moving past on the automated tracks looked vaguely threatening in the gloom. Now that he was totally inside the carwash, there was a nasty, moldy stink to the place. Starsky could feel the itchy drip of sweat down his back, but he ignored that, along with his bladder. A sudden lusty wail almost had him diving for the floor with his weapon drawn but he held firm, straining to see anything past the bristly barrier. He was aware of Hutch standing just beyond the entrance, watching his back, as always, not questioning what the heck he was doing.

Certain now that there wasn't anyone else lurking behind the water jet pipes that rinsed the suds from the cars, Starsky advanced slowly. The baby was crying softly but steadily, hiccuping between sobs.

There. He could see a blue carry bag, with Adidas written across the side in white. The kind that shoe stores gave away as a free promotion with the purchase of the popular sneakers. It appeared to be wiggling. Bending down cautiously, Starsky unzipped the bag. A very red faced baby, startled at the sound of the zip, stared up at him for one second with wide, teary black eyes before launching into louder wails, small arms and legs pumping vigorously.

"Hutch, it's really small." Starsky said over the screams, thinking how stupid that sounded. He didn't feel it was at all necessary to add that it was a baby. "Call dispatch--uh, who do we need?"

"Child protective services," Hutch said, stooping down to look. He sneezed abruptly, covering his nose and mouth at the last moment.

"Hutch!" Starsky scooped the baby up, Adidas bag and all. "You're contagious, don't get the baby sick! Ask for Perkowitz. Is she still at the downtown office?"

"As far as I know." Hutch swiped at his nose with a new Kleenex, heading back to the car.

Starsky sat down on the cement, cradling his bundle. They'd need to show where they found the baby for the official report, so it did no good to carry it off to the car and possibly lose evidence, but there was no reason he had to leave the poor thing on the cold ground, screaming. Cuddled into a warm body, the infant began to calm, snuffling and snorting, but no longer crying.

Wanting to investigate his armful, Starsky eased the bag down between his crossed legs, gently unwrapping the dingy flannel blanket to take a proper look. It didn't take a trained detective to see that this was a she, and she needed a diaper. The whole lower half of the blanket was soaked through. She couldn't be more than a few hours old, because a short length of umbilical cord was still attached, with a jaunty red plastic barrette clipped to the end where someone had cut her free of her mother. Had the baby's mother abandoned her here? Left her to die?

Horrified all over again, Starsky wanted to sweep up his little princess and bring her home. Who would do such a thing? And why? Even as he pondered that, Starsky knew the answer. He'd been a street cop for too long. Sadly, high school girls got knocked up by the football captain all too often. Streetwalkers disregarded the customer with a broken condom, or worst of all, battered adolescents left home wearing heavy sweaters to cover the surprise growing inside them. It was all too common. However this baby had started out--unwanted, unloved and unprotected--Starsky was determined to find out what had happened and fix things. He'd found this little princess, now he would give her the life she deserved. He'd felt an immediate and overwhelming bond with her from the moment he looked into those black button eyes.

Her tears had ceased and the baby began to squirm, the wetness from the bag seeping through onto Starsky's jeans, but amazingly, he found he didn't care in the least. He was fascinated by her every movement. A tiny fist raised up to her face, practically punching herself in the eye before it wandered downward, finally locating the pink lips. After a few experimental pushes the baby managed to insert fist into mouth and started sucking loudly. This didn't last too long as she quickly noticed that there wasn't any food coming out of her own hand. Looking up at Starsky as if she expected him to fix things, now, she let out a disgruntled wail.

"She okay?" Hutch ran in, practically out of breath.

"I think she's hungry. You think that store has any baby food?"

"Starsky, I may not know much about newborns, but they don't eat anything. They drink mother's milk."

"Mothers are in short supply around here, blondie."

"What is going on?" A tidy looking man of East Indian descent poked his head in through the end of the carwash, with several others standing behind him, including the five year old Starsky had seen go into the toilet. He was suddenly reminded once again of his full bladder.

"We've called back-up and CPS," Hutch explained. "There's an abandoned baby in here."

"What? I can't have such things! You must find her mother." The man started off on a tirade of insulted honor.

"Sir?" Hutch interrupted but the man continued rambling about what the parent office might say. "Sir? What is your name?"

"Harshad Patel. I am the manager of this Shell."

"Mr. Patel, have you had any women come in today who looked obviously pregnant? Maybe they had to use the restroom for a long period of time?"

The baby had started to cry in earnest again, even though Starsky put her up on his shoulder and patted her vigorously. "Hutch, she needs some food!"

"I have to get back to my cash register. I could be robbed if I am not vigilant," Patel said, casting a disapproving eye at the infant.

"Here." The woman with the five year old came up, holding out a bottle of formula. "We were just out to get my sister's baby some milk and had to stop so that Samantha could just the potty. Take one."

"Thanks." Starsky accepted the bottle gratefully. "How do I give it to her? There's no nipple."

"Oops, sorry." The mother shrugged. Samantha regarded the baby with curiosity, two fingers stuck into her mouth.

Hutch sneezed.

"Uncle Harshad?" A long legged teenager with a shock of unruly black hair came around the now sizable crowd clustered around Starsky and the baby. "The police are here."

"They are here, as well!" Patel threw up his arms in resignation. "I do have nipples. Come around to the shop and I will sell you some."

"I'll go if you'll finish answering my questions?" Hutch followed him out of the carwash just as two uniformed cops showed up. "Can you get rid of these people?" Hutch said irritably, wiping at his nose. "My partner found a baby."

"You wouldn't happen to have a diaper in your bag, too?" Starsky asked Samantha's mother, accepting that he was going to be covered with baby drool and other nastier things by the end of this. He bounced his baby on his shoulder, but her screams were only increasing in decibel.

"No, but I'll tell you one thing. There was a girl filling up her car ahead of ours. She was walking like I used to, after Samantha was born. Careful, you know?"

"Could you describe the girl?" Starsky remember the dark haired girl who had jumped into her car when Hutch sneezed. "Was she driving a green Pinto?"

"Yes, her car was in front of ours. There was a SAM in the license. I remember because it's like Samantha's name."

"Mickelti!" Starsky called to one of the two uniforms who had managed to steer away all the onlookers. "Can you get a statement from..."

"Joanie Rosebalm."

"The extremely helpful Mrs. Rosebalm, and her lovely assistant Samantha." Starsky winked at the five year old.

"What happened here, exactly?" Mickelti asked.

"I found an abandoned baby." Starsky held up the tiny bundle with the big voice as evidence.

"Where's her mother?" Mickelti persisted, in what Starsky thought was an appalling example of ignorance.

"If we knew where she was, the baby wouldn't be abandoned." Starsky rocked the shrieking baby, wondering if he could go deaf in one hour from her screams. How did real mothers put up with this? "But Mrs. Rosebalm may have a lead on a girl driving a green Pinto with the partial plate SAM. Can you get it out on the horn, now? I think I saw her heading west on 7th."

"Yes, sir!" Mickelti's partner, who looked even younger than he did, ran back to their cruiser with all speed. When had the department let two rookies out as partners?

"It was the old style plates," Joanie added helpfully. "The black ones with yellow letters, not the blue and yellow ones or the new white ones."

Starsky laughed, the constant change over of California plates made it even easier to distinguish one from another. But between the baby's wails and his now very insistent bladder, he was feeling very uncomfortable. Besides, the concrete was cold. With effort, he stood, still holding the baby up to his shoulder.

Between Starsky and Joanie, they managed to relay all the pertinent information to Mickelti, while Samantha covered her ears and complained about the baby's crying.

At long last Hutch came back bearing a small package of colorful bottle nipples. In the interest of keeping his virus away from the child, he handed the nipples to Mickelti, who handed it over to Starsky. Joanie's last contribution to the cause before she left was to explain how to screw the lid off a bottle of formula and screw the nipple back on.

"I never knew they had stuff like this!" Starsky said in admiration and plopped the nipple between the loud mouth's pink lips. Blessed silence replaced the claxon of her screams, and she began to suck at such a frantic pace Starsky pulled the bottle out to make sure she was breathing. The baby gave him an undisguised look of reproach, took a shuddery breath, and unerringly turned her mouth to the rubber nipple. She nursed eagerly but not with quite the desperate need of the first sucks.

"I just talked to Perkowitz, she's on her way," Hutch said, when they were momentarily alone. "We need to take the baby to Memorial to be checked out."

"What then?" Starsky couldn't take his eyes off his little miracle. Her hair was dark against her rounded skull, black eyes closing now with her belly partially full. He didn't have any idea how to gauge the health of a newborn, but she was pink, vigorous, loud as the Torino's siren, and sucking like mad on the bottle of formula. All which seemed pretty good to him. Why would she have to go to the hospital?

"Foster care, I guess."

"Yeah, I guess." Starsky didn't want that. He didn't want that with an intensity that scared him. They'd find her mother, the frightened girl driving a green Pinto, and maybe he could help her out. Hutch would understand. Hutch was always the one wanting to slip a few twenties into the pocket of someone less fortunate than they were. It was the right thing to do. Except, Starsky wanted to see this beautiful baby grow up, become a joyful child, and stunning girl. He wanted to know her. That, and change her diaper. The wet from the blanket and bag had soaked through his shirt and jeans.

When the two ounce bottle was nearly empty, the baby released the nipple with an impatient shake of her head and gave a loud, and very unladylike, burp. Starsky laughed in surprise, looking up to see Hutch looking at him with concern.

"Starsk, don't..."

"Don't what?" Starsky retorted. "Don't fall in love? Can't stop that, lover, it already happened." Hutch's face warred with expressions ranging from sympathetic to concern. He hadn't quite settled on one when Starsky caught sight of a cute dark haired woman climbing out of a yellow Honda.

"Ken, Dave!" Perkowtiz, whose surname had inspired the nickname of Perky around the department, waved as she hurried up from where she'd parked next to Hutch's LTD.

"Back here," Hutch called, pinching the bridge of his nose to hold off a sneeze. "Starsky doesn't want me to get too close because he says I have germs."

"If you have what I had last week, you sure do." She sighed, taking in the sight of a baby curled up in Starsky's arms. "Adorable. Where did you find her?"

"Right there." Starsky indicated the space behind the enormous brushes with a jab of his chin. "We may have a lead on the mother. If so, I saw her pull out of here, so the baby wasn't there long."

"Good thing." Perky held out her arms. "Hand him over."

"It's a girl," Starsky said, reluctant to part with his bundle. He was getting very comfortable the warm, sweet weight of her against his chest. His pants and shirt would dry. "She needs a diaper change."

"So do you, I think." Perky wrinkled her nose at the stain on his jeans. "Dave, I need to take her over to the hospital to be evaluated. Get her shots."

"What shots?" Starsky held her tighter. His baby didn't need an injection on her birthday!

"Babies need Vitamin K shots, to help with blood, and a check-up by a pediatrician, Starsk," Hutch said gently as if he knew how hard this was for Starsky.

"She looks healthy to me," he protested.

"You want to come over to the newborn ward?" Perky suggested. "See where she'll go? I have to call for an emergency foster mom who takes babies."

"What about me?" Starsky was surprised as any of them to hear the words come out of his mouth. He didn't even want to look over at Hutch. He knew what the blond must be thinking, and it wasn't good.

"Oh, Dave, that's impossible," Perky said softly, avoiding his eyes by stroking the baby's cheek.

"Why? Just a couple of years ago you let Pete..."

"Molly," Hutch corrected, since she was now in high school and showing much more interest in girlish things, although she was still the best pitcher on her baseball team.

"Pete," Starsky persisted. "Stay with Hutch for Christmas, and look how good that turned out?"

"Good? I got a reprimand."

"You never told me that!" Hutch said in shocked surprise.

"It blew over quickly." She shrugged dismissively.

"I meant that Pete got adopted by Maria Ramos." Starsky hadn't known about Perky's black mark either, which was weird, because there for a while he and Perky had been quite an item. In fact, just after she'd cooled on him, she'd taken up briefly with Hutch. Just one of several women he and his partner had passed between them before they'd given up the middle woman, as it were, and found each other. Things had been exhilerating, intense and scary since then. Having recognized that they had always wanted each other and not the string of women they'd left behind had brought it's own complications, namely that the department frowned upon heterosexual couples being partnered together. There would be a avalanche of censure from the top brass if Starsky and Hutch were found to be sharing a bed.

"I didn't mean to get you in trouble." Hutch sneezed and mopped at his nose. "I just wanted to give a child a happy memory for Christmas."

"Which she got." Perkowitz smiled at him, then got to work, opening a large satchel with official looking documents inside. "Now, about the baby. What time did you find her?"

Starsky told the tale again, holding tight to the sleeping infant. He literally couldn't imagine giving her up. This was much more than giving a little girl good Christmas memories, even if it were December, instead of March. This went deeper, more primal. It almost reminded him of the way he felt about Hutch, but in a subtly different way. More protective, and far less lusty. But it was love, definitely. It had come on so incredibly fast, like being hit over the head with a billy club.

Feeling extremely conflicted and confused, Starsky climbed into Perky's car, strapping the baby into a car seat she'd brought with her. Hutch followed them to the hospital in his car, sneezing all the way, Starsky was sure.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"You can't be serious!" Hutch descended on him the minute Starsky stepped out of the bathroom still tying the drawstring on a pair of borrowed scrub pants. The charge nurse for the nursery had taken one look at him and banished him to the intern's shower to clean up. He dumped his rolled up clothes onto a chair in the waiting room, facing Hutch's tirade. In a strange way, he felt he needed it. Maybe it would knock some sense into his brain, because he sure wasn't thinking straight right now. "You want to keep that baby, don't you?" Hutch shouted, causing the heads of two expectant fathers to whip around in rapt interest.

"You wanna keep your voice down?" Starsky tugged him into a naugahide sofa, not exactly sure how to make Hutch understand. "Yeah, what if I do?"

"Because it's insane. What about our jobs? What are you going to do with a baby when we're on the streets 12 hours a day? Drag her around in one of those sacks on your back?"

Starsky brightened at that, Hutch was being sarcastic but not completely dismissive. "We're taking the lieutenant's exam next week, Hutch. We were plannin' on getting off the street anyway. Maybe I'm thinking of alternatives."

Hutch stared at him for a moment, his face softening into something that made Starsky's insides melt. "You still having a lot of pain in your chest?" He rubbed his nose but didn't sneeze, and both of them knew he wasn't talking about residual from the flu.

"Yeah," Starsky agreed. "Hutch, I just think...there's a reason I found this baby. That she was waiting for me."

"Starsky, she has a mom out there. The girl was obviously confused..."

"That makes two of us."

"But when they find her, get her enrolled in some parenting classes, she'll get her daughter back. The baby isn't yours to keep."

Hutch was making sense, but Starsky really didn't want to hear it. He was just glad his partner hadn't invoked the dreaded Hutchinson finger of doom under his nose. Looking anywhere but those clear blue eyes, Starsky spied Perky the moment she came out of the nursery.

"How is she?" He jumped up, bouncing on the tips of his toes, poised to go see his new girlfriend.

"The doctor examined her, says she's right as rain. No dehydration or fever. I have to call the emergency foster mom for infants." Perky hauled out a thick day planner, flipping through the address section for the letter L. "Starsky, don't look at me with those puppy dog eyes, Marie Landers is an experienced foster mom. She used to be a neonatal intensive care nurse herself. She'll take good care of the baby until her mother is found."

"I know." Starsky glanced back at Hutch, feeling like he was caught in a vice. "Can I go see her, at least?"

"Sure, go ahead. There's a public phone down the hall there, I won't be long."

"Starsk?" Hutch's voice was soft and almost hesitant. "You want me to wait, or...?"

"You look like crap, you know that?" Starsky forced himself to smile to soften the jeer. "Nose all red and your eyes are watering. But you're not sneezing so much. Did you take the cold medicine?"

"Yes, I did, Dad." Hutch scratched his nose. "I'm gonna go back to Metro, fill out the report about Baby Doe."

"Okay, I'll catch up to you." Starsky started down the hallway toward the nursery. "Hutch?" He caught his partner just before Hutch hit the down button for the elevator. "Thanks."

"De nada." Hutch winked at him. "Starsky, you'd make a wonderful father."

Smiling, Starsky raised a hand in farewell, startled at the warm glow the sentiment gave him. He could be her dad. In fact, judging from the relative youth of the girl he had so briefly seen, he could be this baby's grandfather. Now that was a weird thought.

Starsky was surprised to find that this nursery was not like the ones portrayed in Hollywood movies. There was no giant window with rows of newborns lined up like merchandise in a store window waiting to be selected. Instead, he walked through a small lobby where he had to sign in and take a yellow gown to put on over his clothes. A middle-aged dark haired nurse was keeping watch over five babies.

"You're Sergeant Starsky?" She smiled in welcome. "I'm Elizabeth Anne. Baby Doe is right over here."

"Thanks for letting me see her." Starsky peered at his girl. She looked very good, now dressed in a small white t-shirt and dry diaper with a pink and blue striped stocking cap on her head. She had miniature bubbles on her pretty pink lips and waved both hands in the air, displacing a blue striped blanket.

"Not that this would be her official name, or anything, but both Diane and I thought you should give her a name."

"Diane?" Starsky repeated, letting the baby grab his forefinger with one chubby little fist.

"Miss Perkowitz."

"Oh, yeah, been a long time since I've heard her real first name." He laughed, the baby had an amazing strong grip for one so young. "You want me to name her?"

"Just so we and the foster mom have something to call her, until her mother comes back. Since you found her."

"I've been thinking about a name, but it's silly."

"Use me as a sounding board."

Starsky looked directly at her for the first time, judging her reaction. He'd tried not to think of the baby as anything but baby, but the name kept coming back, as if insisting on being heard. "Venus."

Elizabeth Anne grinned, the laugh lines around her eyes crinkling merrily. "Goddess on a mountain top, and Venus was her na-ame," she sang in a melodic soprano. "I think that's a great name. What made you think of it?"

"Found her in a half Shell," Starsky punned, picking Venus up to place her against his shoulder. She burped loudly again, and settled in as if this were the most perfect place on earth.

"You're a funny man, Sergeant Starsky." She burst out laughing which apparently startled another infant in the room who started bawling with lusty fervor.

"Dave." He leaned his cheek against the peachy soft head, thoroughly content. He'd never held a newborn for any length of time before today, but it gave him the most amazing peace, as if everything in the world had changed for the better. Except for the fact that he had that song in his head now. She's Goddess, yeah, baby, she's Goddess..."Y'know, when I first heard that song played on the radio I used to think they were saying "fetus was her name"."

In the midst of changing the baby boy's diaper, Elizabeth Anne nodded. "I did, too. Which puts a really strange spin on the song."

"So, the doctor said she was okay, huh?"

"Perfect for someone with such a traumatic beginning to her life. Her mom probably delivered the baby on her own, judging from her choice of cord clamps."

"The barrette?"

"Got to use what's on hand, in a pinch. Was the mom Caucasian?"

"Yeah." Starsky inhaled deeply, imprinting the sweet smell of clean newborn. "Why?"

"Unless I miss my guess, and I've been at this a long time, your little girlfriend there is half Black. Probably why the mom abandoned her."

"She's not brown." Starsky scrutinized the baby. He hadn't much experience with one day olds, but most babies tended to look the same to him. Not Venus, of course, he was sure he could have picked her out in a line up. Nearly all the babies he'd ever seen had squinty darkish, indeterminate colored eyes, a dusting of hair, and round squashed noses. Like Venus. Her eyes were black, though, and her hair very dark. It covered her scalp entirely, completely unlike the pictures he'd seen of Hutch's very bald, very pale looking niece Sylvie. So, Venus was obviously not Scandinavian.

"She'll get darker, and her hair will start to curl in a few days. It's a shame, thought, because some families won't take Black kids. Makes it harder to place them."

Starsky wouldn't have cared it she were purple with yellow polka-dots. What did color have to do with loving a baby? Who the hell cared, when there was a child who needed a family and security? He might not be the best judge of what was currently social acceptable, since he was in a relationship with his male partner.

"Is Dave Starsky here?" Hutch's voice could be heard from the anteroom just as the phone rang. Elizabeth Anne juggled the boy in one arm, picking up the phone with another. "Thanks, Marcia," she replied. "Your partner is here," she said to Starsky just as Hutch emerged, dressed in a yellow gown with a mask. He hovered uncertainly in the doorway.

"Hutch has the flu," Starsky explained when he didn't come any further into the room. "What's going on?"  
"They found the green Pinto." Hutch glanced down at Venus sleeping against Starsky's shoulder. "Can I talk to you privately?"

"Sure." Starsky nestled Venus back into her bassinette, touching her round cheek for a moment. "Thanks, Elizabeth Anne. I'll be back."

"Sure thing. With your skills, maybe I can put you to work feeding some of this crew." She put a nipple onto a prepared bottle while the boy in her arms screamed his demands.

"They have the mom in custody?" Starsky asked, shedding his gown and dumping it into a laundry hamper.

"Uh--no." Hutch pinched the bridge of his nose as if his head were pounding. "Starsk, she's dead."

"What?" Starsky felt a shock of pure adrenaline flash through him, his first thought of the terrified mother fleeing the scene, and the second that the baby was now an orphan, and maybe she was adoptable. He was completely ashamed of his own selfish reaction to the poor girl's death. "What happened?"

"She was driving erratically from the moment she left the gas station and made a left about two blocks away, right in front of Metro, hit a guy running a red light head on. Lots of witnesses, needless to say, including a couple cops. She died almost instantly, the other guy is swearing up a blue streak, according to Minnie. His Beamer is totaled and he has whiplash."

"Damn," Starsky whispered, stunned by the sudden turn of events.

"Starsky."

He knew what Hutch was going to say and really didn't want to hear it right then. Couldn't he hold on to his fantasy for just a moment longer? Pretend that he had a chance to be in that baby's life? "Don't say it, Hutch."

"I don't think you know what I was going to say."

"What?" Starsky asked harshly, turning away so that Hutch wouldn't glimpse the one tear that threatened in his left eye. He blinked furiously, hearing Hutch stifle a sneeze and fumble in his pocket for the Kleenex.

"This is way too soon for any decisions because we certainly don't have all the answers right now," Hutch began and Starsky wanted to yell at him to stop. Don't be so sensible for once, Hutch. Give in to the temptation. Give in to the beauty of that baby's face. "But I'd support you all the way if you wanted to adopt her."

"You would?"

"I'd even move out if that gave you more leverage. I've-I've heard of single fathers adopting, but maybe not...attached ones."

Starsky had to smile at Hutch's clumsy euphemism. It gave him the mental image of the two of them joined at the hip, the Siamese twins of the Bay City detective squad. "Thanks." He held his hand out, still facing away from Hutch, and felt it grasped in a bigger palm, squeezed once and then let go as two women walked into the nursery. "We don't know about family, or anything."

"Dave Starsky, Ken Hutchinson, this is Marie Landers," Perky introduced them to a gray haired woman with startlingly blue eyes and a forthright manner. "She used to work here, and is willing to take home Baby Doe on a temporary hold until we can find more permanent placement for her."

"This just got more complicated," Hutch said, explaining about the accident.

Marie looked horrified, her eyes filling with tears. "I think I might know who that girl was. Can you describe her?"

Starsky combined what he had seen, and what Mrs. Rosebalm had described, into one. "About five one or two, sixteen or so, dark hair to her shoulders, cut shaggy, in a blue sweatshirt and jeans, no insignia, and a green Pinto with old California plates, partial SAM."

"It might be Katie Deer. One of my friends, Sarah Huffington, fosters teens. Katie left a couple of weeks ago, stole their car. That's the license plate, SAM 112."

"She report it?" Hutch asked, nodding at the information.

"Of course, and she's been so worried about Katie. She was pregnant. We all hoped she actually went back to Oregon, to her aunt's house, but the aunt hadn't heard anything. This will kill Sarah, she dotes on her girls."

"I know Sarah," Perky said softly. "I'll see if she can come make an ID of the body."

"The poor baby. I'm not sure she has any other family." Marie began to wash her hands like she had long time experience at suiting up to go into the nursery. "I can't keep her long, though, my two year old, a cardiac born with heroin addiction, has been in the hospital for surgery, but he'll be out by Monday."

"We'll find another placement, Marie, thanks." Perkowitz was making notes on her clipboard, her face grave.

"What about me?" Starsky asked again, and rushed past Perky's objections. "I want to become a licensed foster parent. How long would it take?"

Her expression changing to wary participation in his cockamamie plan, Perky considered this momentarily. "Well, as a cop you've already passed all the formalities such as fingerprint and background checks. I know you, and can vouch for your character, so that's no problem." She frowned and jumped slightly when Hutch sneezed against his hand. "Need a hanky, officer?" Perky teased. "Are you serious about this? It's a lot of work."

"I'll just get the discharge instructions from the nurse, and the baby and I will be on our way." Marie deftly tied the gown in the back.

"Elizabeth Anne and I named her Venus," Starsky said shyly, feeling like he was already losing ground with his girl. His chest ached, in a far different way than usual. "Just to have something to call her."

"Venus is a proud name," Marie smiled. "Come over whenever you want, Dave, to hold her. I can tell you already have a special bond." She walked back into the nursery where Starsky could hear her chatting with Elizabeth Anne. A baby was wailing, and seconds later two more joined in. Must be feeding time.

"You are serious." Perky raised her eyebrows, gazing at Starsky as if she was seeing someone new "I never expected this out of you, playboy. You want to take on the responsibility of raising a child?"

"I'd adopt her, if I could."

"There is an aunt, maybe other relatives, if her mother is really Katie Deer."

"Yeah, and she's got full rights obviously. But do I have a chance?" Starsky glanced over at Hutch who hadn't said anything in a long time. Hutch ducked his head, in the pretext of throwing out a used tissue.

"Foster parent classes are every month on the third Saturday. You're in luck--there's one in two days. Since you're a friend, I can expedite the paperwork and get you in, pronto. Then, there's a home check. You have to lock up firearms and have poisons and household chemicals up off the floor. As long as you pass, you could qualify by the end of next week."

"That soon?" Hutch asked.

"Knowing the right people helps." She placed a finger to the side of her nose like Paul Newman in The Sting. "Are you going to the class, too, Ken?"

"I don't want to mess up his chances," Hutch hedged.

"Listen, it's nobody's business in the department, but I have eyes, guys. You two passed me between you like you were sharing the same toy." She laughed when they both started to protest this assessment of their tactics.

"Diane!" Hutch said, which irritated Starsky just a little that Hutch remembered her first name, and called her by it. He'd always called her Perky.

"I didn't mind. I had fun, or I wouldn't have gone along with it. But the times we were all three together, it was like I wasn't even there. You'd talk over my head--and over my ass. I knew, I always have."

"Would Starsky have a better chance as a single man, or one with a housemate?"

"A housemate is not a problem." She glanced over at the ward clerk, Marcia, who was talking to a new mom sitting in a wheelchair. "A bed mate might be. As long as the social worker who does the house walk-through sees two beds, in two bedrooms, with a place for a child in a separate bedroom, they can't make any assumptions about your relationship. Yes, there will be questions, and I'm not the ultimate authority on who gets what child. But Dave definitely has connections here, and a desire to parent the minor."

"So, it's a yes?" Starsky let out the pent-up breath that was making his lungs bulge.

"It's a definite maybe, that's all I can say."

"Here she is." Marie came out with Venus dressed in pink terrycloth sleeper with a ruffly white bonnet on her sweet head, and wrapped in a very fluffy pink blanket. "All set."

"Where'd you get those clothes so quickly?" Starsky marveled at his princess. She opened her black eyes, and her lips parted in a satisfied coo. "She smiled at me! I saw it. Did you see that, Hutch?"

"It's gas." Marie clucked at the baby. "I've got boxes of clothes for every stage of a baby's life stacked in my garage, Dave. You can pick out what you'd like her to wear, when you visit."

"I just found out I'll be busy on Saturday, from..."

"Eight a.m. until four thirty," Perky supplied.

"But can I come over after that? To feed her?" Starsky asked eagerly, surprised and pleased when Marie slipped Venus into his arms.

"Any day, any time. Maybe you could even babysit when I go pick up DeMarcus on Monday when he's discharged."

"It's a deal." Starsky hugged Venus close, then reluctantly gave her back. It just occurred to him that he had absolutely nothing in the way of baby supplies. What exactly did a baby need, anyway? Even Hutch had known that newborns didn't eat baby food. Starsky felt like a total rookie, and panicked. "When they do the walk through, will I need a...a crib?"

"Talk to me after you take the class," Marie said serenely, loading Venus into a baby carrier. "I can loan you anything, and what I don't have, my friends who do fostering do. You'll be entering a wonderful group of people who all take care of each other in a pinch."

"Thanks."

"I'll walk with you, Marie." Perky gathered up her bulky bag as they both left. Marcia escorted the new mom into the nursery, leaving the two detectives temporarily alone.

Starsky was stunned when Hutch came up behind him and kissed him softly on the cheek. "What was that for?" he asked, since Hutch had never before kissed him in public.

"Congratulations, you're about to be a dad."

"What if I can't hack it, Hutch? There's so much to do."

"Oh, now you start to panic?" Hutch laughed, which made him sneeze again. "After the class on Saturday, we can clean out the extra bedroom and make sure your clothes are in the red room and mine are in the blue room."

"Go home, now and get some rest," Starsky ordered. "You've got the flu. I'll do the paperwork for Dobey, and bring you some chicken soup later."

"I love it when you get dominant."

"You just love getting out of doing the reports." Starsky trundled him over to the elevator. "You okay with this? I mean, I shoulda asked you. I--I won't do this unless you want to, too."

"Starsky, I saw the look in your eyes when you first picked her up. It was instantaneous. Yes, you should have asked me, but it's not a surprise." Hutch stepped into the elevator, propping his hand on the door until Starsky came in. "What about the lieutenant's exam next week?"  
"Shit--I gotta take that, huh?"

"Unless you want Venus to go through life with a deadbeat dad, yeah, I think you do."

"We take the exam on Wednesday. And maybe get a baby by the weekend." Starsky pressed the lobby button firmly. "My horoscope said to be ready for some changes this month, I just figured it meant I was due for a haircut."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Congratulations, Daddy Dave," Perky said, placing Venus in Starsky's arms.

"I can't believe the aunt refused to take her." Starsky gazed at his baby, remembering the phone call to Janice Deer. She'd rejected that "half-breed whelp" without a single question about how Katie had died. "Who couldn't love you, Princess?"

The whole thing had taken a bit longer than planned, since the people in charge of placing foster children were somewhat reluctant to hand a girl baby over to a man. There were questions about his intentions toward her in other than fatherly ways. Although somewhat offended at the implications, Starsky took it in stride, and rode out the furor. He was actually more amused that his real sexual orientation never once came into the conversation, at least not in that circumstance. It had in private, with the psychologist assigned to review his reasons for adopting. She'd probed him in nine different directions, asking what he planned to do when she started asking why Daddy lived with a man, where her mommy was, and how babies were made. He'd answered honestly, and when Hutch had finished with the same grilling, the woman had voiced no objections. The house check went smoothly, but it took three hearings before Venus Kathryn Deer, the name Starsky himself got to pick for the birth certificate, was placed permanently in the Starsky/Hutchinson household.

"You want to put your foot down a little harder on the gas?" Hutch teased with a straight face. "The posted limit is 30, not 15."

"Just being cautious." Starsky was acutely aware of the precious burden in the back seat. Her mother had died in an auto accident. He had to be extra careful when driving, that was for certain.

"Driving below the speed limit can get you a ticket, just as easily as driving above it can." Hutch looked out the window with an exaggerated look of horror. "Here comes a cruiser!"

"Where?" Starsky pressed his foot down in surprise and the car surged ahead. He slowed, but let the speedometer needle hover at 29, reaching back to touch the toe of the slumbering baby. "You're trying to fake me out, when I haven't had a lick of sleep in two days."

"Is it my fault you stayed with Venus at Marie's? You didn't have to get up at three a.m. to feed her."

"I did if I wanted to get used to this parenting stuff. You can try it tonight."

"Oh, now I know why her room is between ours."

"Unless you want trouble on every front, you'll be in the same bed with me, like usual," Starsky warned, glancing into the back seat when he stopped for a red light. "Is she breathing? Is she still alive?"

"Relax, she's sleeping peacefully in the most expensive car seat known to mankind."

"Yeah, I'm sure glad you'll be getting a pay raise soon, we're gonna need it."

"Who's we, Sergeant Starsky?"

"Lieutenant Hutchinson, you'd deprive that sweet face of anything on earth?" Starsky bantered without rancor. Hutch had passed the test. He hadn't, but only by ten points. He planned on taking it again, in six months, after his parenting leave. The department had no official policy on fathers taking time off for their children, but Dobey was a fair minded man, and a dad. He'd granted the leave without blinking. Starsky was just glad that Hutch would soon be off the streets, in a much safer job.

"She can have anything, just as long as we avoid the commercial, high priced crap foisted off on yuppie parents trying to get their infant geniuses into the best kindergarten while they're still in the womb." Hutch started in on one of his tirades and Starsky grinned indulgently. "It's criminal the way advertisers prey on the natural fears of parents, playing to their concerns for their children while forcing them to buy the most expensive shoes and strollers just so little Johnny will look like a clone of little Sammy."

"Little Venus is a genius," Starsky said staunchly. "She smiles at me all the time, and knows her name."

"According to the book, all three week olds can do that."

"You been reading my book?"

"When you're sleeping with her, at Marie's, what else do I have to do at night?"

"Tonight, all three of us, in the California King."

"Starsky, experts say that co-bedding can lead to..."

Venus gave out a wail just as the car turned into the driveway.

"See what she thinks of the experts?" Starsky winked at Hutch. "If you warm up a bottle for her, and let us both get a nap after she eats, maybe you'll get lucky later on tonight, Lieutenant. I always did like fooling around with the upper echelon."

"Sounds to me like insubordination with the sergeant doing all the ordering around." Hutch loaded up with all the baby things Marie had sent along, slinging baby bags and sacks of disposable diapers over his arm so he could haul the used swing up the front steps.

Starsky unbuckled his princess, extricating her carefully from the carseat. She stared up at him with her snappy black eyes, face lighting up when he picked her up. "There's my girl." He tucked her against his shoulder, kissing the top of her warm, fuzzy head.

Just as predicted, Venus had gotten darker, her skin now the color of warm cocoa with whipped cream stirred in. Her hair was a riot of black curls, which Hutch said looked just like Starsky's after a shower, and she'd put on an astonishing amount of weight in such a short time. Every time he saw her Starsky fell further and further in love. He never regretted a second of the preparation. This was exactly the right thing to do, for all three of them. If he didn't pass the exam a second time, he didn't think he'd care all that much. Possibilities seemed to be opening up all over the place for a scarred up, middle-aged cop. If he didn't ever work the street again, he could teach at the academy. He could become a private eye. He could even while away the rest of his life watching Venus grow.

He, Hutch and Venus--like instant coffee, just add water, and they'd become a family. And he couldn't wait to see what the future would bring.


End file.
